Despite the constriction, it is not detrimental to arroycoo and I decide that we have afforded enough aftercare. Enough recovery and acclimation.
It is time.
On Thursday evening I bathe and massage, Sunny bound to the tub as always. I also shave her, her entire form blushing as she spreads and exposes all. When Louise returns from her shift sometime near midnight she finds Sunny busy fellating me. Louise just smiles and gives me that matronly look, a mother catching her son getting into the cookie jar.
“You put the frame on wheels,” she notes.
I nod then close my eyes as a goodly load of semen gushes into Sunny’s throat.
“We’ll need some mobility while she hangs.”
“Yes, I signed the lease on the loft downstairs,” Louise thinking as do I.
Saving time, I arise and zip, a chore normally reserved for Sunny’s teeth and lips.
“Good. You must meet Mrs. Anderson sometime. Quite an imposing woman.”
I take the leash. Sunny rises, certain movements still awkward such as shifting weight from her knees to her feet and legs. She winces as the impinged muscles cramp. Then she mentally brings control in new found concentration which has required days to develop.
“Over here, my pretty pet.”
To the frame, Sunny knows to stand within. With her humility, she speaks less and less, the constant bondage seeming to immerse her submissive psyche into another world.
“Now it is important that your weight be evenly distributed, Sunny,” I lecture as I begin.
Nose leash first, as always it is tied to the front bar. Then her elbows are freed and I introduce a new dynamic to how Sunny Sudenskaya will be kept cruelly suspended. I have purchased bungee cords. Strong... elastic... such will provide Sunny with a range of motion which will both entertain and permit some relief to muscles which will be long held immobile.
So it’s the right elbow, then left and the limited length forces the arms high and Sunny to bend at the waist. Next comes a long corset cord. Front bar, then through the eight pairs of grommets, then loosely connected to the rear bar.
Bungee cords right then left, are hooked through the buttock grommets. I watch as tension there brings the expected contraction and cramping... which Sunny admirably brings under control.
“This will be most painful, Sunny. I will work quickly, but the initial suspension will not have you balanced.”
She nods as best she can and with that I lift her right foot quite high, hook a short bungee cord through the grommet and connect it to the side bar above. She grimaces then moans as I repeat the process with the left foot and ankle grommet.
For the first time, Sunny is completely suspended, no part of her anatomy touching the floor. With much weight borne by the buttock and Achilles grommets I work to tighten the corset cord, shifting weight to the flesh of her spine. In doing so, Sunny works to relax, trying desperately to stop the intense cramping.
“You’ll find, Sunny, over time, that remaining completely motionless is best. The slightest movement will bring a cascade of cramps.”
Louise looks on in fascination. The naked form of Sunny Sudenskaya hangs horizontally. The corset cord, Sunny’s weight making it tauter than ever, forces a presentation of her breasts that we have not before seen. Cow’s udders more than mammary glands, such are deliciously exposed and vulnerable. The short bungee cords used for the Achilles heel grommets part her calves at the width of the frame... three feet. The buttock grommets pull outward towards the sides to open the gluteal cleft. Thus it is not only the breasts which invite visual examination. Sunny is held spread, the rose bud of her anus, the pink slit of her love sheath beckoning the voyeur.
“How do you feel, Sunny?”
“I cannot move. It hurts.”
“I assume it is a sensation that you desire. Complete control of your body, ceded to your superiors. Is there any one binding which hurts more than others? I want uniformity. The stress to be felt over your entire body.”
“My nose, sir. The nose cord is most painful.”
“Oh my. That will divert your thoughts.”
I move to Sunny’s head, grasp hair at the back of her head and gently lift, momentarily relieving the tension of the nose cord.
“Well this won’t do. She can’t comfortably lie straining to hold up her head. And the nose grommet stresses too many nerves,” I think out loud and to Louise.
“So use her hair... just as you’re doing now.”
I look at Louise. Such a thought. She steps to the bathroom and returns with scissors.
“She’ll need to have more of a pony tail. It will be quicker to bind her.”
I nod. When placing Sunny in arroycoo suspension I’ll not want to fiddle with hair. Something there needs to be at the ready.
“We’ll leave just enough to gather into a short pony tail and knot a steel ring into it,” Louise announces in snapping the shears.
“No, please, not my hair!” Sunny mourns.
“You’ll be more comfortable.”
I continue to hold the desired clump at the back and top of Sunny’s head. Louise begins to shear, cutting away huge clumps as Sunny strains against her bonds in protest. She hurts herself in so doing, learning for her own the physical cost of motion. Within moments, Sunny’s head is relatively bald except for the comical pony tail in my grasp. It is amazing how quickly one can be shorn when style is not of concern.
“I’ll shave away the stubble in the morning,” Louise announces. “Shampooing will be much easier.
“And I’ll make a matching ring of nickel cobalt.”
“Meanwhile...” Louise announces in holding up a rubber band.
I smile with her prevenience and work to encircle the remaining clump with the rubber band. I knot then stretch a cord from the right side bar though the rubber band to the left side bar. I tighten to adjust. Sunny, for some reason, does not seem grateful in relieving the tension on her nose leash.
While we have worked, Sunny has lain prostrate, dangling from the many cords looped through her grommets. The clock suggests some twenty minutes have passed since I lifted her left foot and placed her in arroycoo... my form of arroycoo.
“That does it, Sunny. Your desired scenario.”
I reach beneath and caress left breast then right. As noted such are irresistibly presented and I can only imagine what fun Louise will be having. But my touch is soothing and therefore welcome. Such will be the unexpected results of the extended bondage and suspension. Sunny’s nervous system will become more receptive to touch and attention, pining for that normally taken for granted.
“It’s late, Louise. She’s all yours.”
“You’re going to leave her like this?”
I shrug and smooth a hand over her fine buttocks, distended by the grommets and elastic bungee cords.
“Release her when you deem it appropriate. But do make her suffer...”
***
Making a simple ring of nickel cobalt requires only a few minutes. Many scrap pieces are circular and I merely pick a suitable size and polish.
An afternoon call to Louise brings an update.
“Leaving at 3:00 p.m. I suspect Sunny will be sleeping when you arrive. She had a long night.”
“You released her?”
“Eventually. But first I found a stool at just the right height to sit upon. It’s not only you she will orally gratify, Winnie. Though hesitant, she quickly realized that I’d keep her suspended until she licked every inch of me. Quite the nimble tongue.”
“How long... in suspension?”
“Hours, dear boy. It’s amazing.”
“Yes the endorphins begin to flow. That’s why it’s important that she not move and disturb herself. It’s also why the tension has to be uniform. Any inordinate pain or discomfort which feels sharp will distract her from entering her space.”
“I shaved her head, leaving that pony tail. Quite distressing for her but necessary. Such tears. A high thorough enema and
she’s lying leashed, elbows and ankles bound waiting for you.”
I hang up. Reports await my review. Before moving to the stack I assure that my digital camera is being charged.
***
Modifying the culturally historic form of arroycoo brings advantage. In lying horizontally there is none of the suspension trauma experienced in vertical suspension where the circulation system becomes strained and blood accumulates in the lower extremities causing syncope. So though stressed in hanging by her own flesh, with the flow of endorphins and Sunny’s basic need for pain and humiliation, she learns to accept the thoroughness of my governance, the timelessness.
Last night was just a warm up, I think to myself as I board a subway train for downtown. Sunny’s tempting nakedness can take more... much more. I know it.
Arriving at Ludlow Street I spy Mrs. Anderson entering ahead of me. The slow elevator again works to my advantage. In pushing through the creaking door the large woman is working the heavy doors. I smile and offer greetings, stepping in after her.
“No little pet on a leash this evening?”
“Sunny’s leashed and waiting for me. She’s kept well bound, those naughty fingers aren’t to stray.”
That wicked smile returns.
“Yes, quite the slut. Sucked her way across Europe did you say?”
Curious small talk for the interval of our ascent. The woman is unflappable in discussing prurient matters.
“Yes, being impoverished, in departing Bulgaria she exchanged blow jobs for transportation. One can only imagine what indecent acts were performed in gaining a visa.”
The woman chuckles.
“She’s not too old to be spanked,” my dear Mrs. Anderson offers.
“I’m afraid such would not serve to modify her behavior. Rather tolerant of pain as you noted. It excites, actually.”
“Tsk. Tsk. One of those girls, as I suspected. Should have known when she didn’t object to you placing her on display, exposing her to me.”
The elevator lumbers to the fourth floor. We work to open the doors.
“Sixth floor. Stop in some time. I think you will be amused. Name’s Winthrop. Friends call me Winnie.”
Mrs. Anderson steps out nodding with my suggestion.
“Over twenty years in the juvenile prison system. I’ve had girls of her ilk. Tempting, saucy, licentious, seeking attention, having a craving for pain that their psyches oddly transform to pleasure. I merely stripped them down and threw them into solitary confinement. As far as I know, some might still be there, and I took early retirement six months ago.”
She laughs, the image of a well confined girl lingering about in nakedness amuses. As I close the elevator doors I realize there is much serendipity in having her for a neighbor.
“And others I kept handcuffed under my desk.”
I catch her final words just as the motor resumes its gnashing ascent.
***
As prognosticated, Sunny is happy to see me. I push before her the bowl for urination, Louise teasingly leaving it just beyond use. Nothing more than visual torment really, for with her ankle grommets firmly clipped together, I doubt if Sunny could neatly use the bowl even if left more proximate.
Releasing her leash, I unclip her ankles and smile in watching her try to position herself to squat over the brim. The buttock and heel grommets are there. She knows and grunts as certain movements bring spasms. Glutei, soleus, gastrocnemius... some very large muscles have been transformed from offering mobility to being sources of discomfort. With every step, with every movement my governance is felt.
I extend my hand and splay her labia, assuring proper alignment.
“Thank you sir,” she meekly offers as she opens herself.
Her head looks ridiculous, a sole plug of hair sticking up like a weed on the back of her cranium. Otherwise Louise shaved quite meticulously. With my free hand I fish for the ring I fabricated. Any metal would suffice, but the dull gray matches her slim neck collar and all the grommets she displays with her nakedness.
She finishes her business. I empty the bowl and grasp her leash.
“Steady,” I command.
Sunny obediently kneels as I gather the tuft of hair and thread it through the ring. Then I knot the many strands to hold the ring in place atop her head, pulling with gusto. It’s tight. The ridiculousness is enhanced. The ring and bob rest where the Hari Krishna sect cultivates growth, the knotted mass appearing to be some type of handle.
“Excellent. Would you like to hang for me, pretty girl?”
Having been tightly bound for some two hours, Sunny demurs. There is such mental conflict, her masochism wrestling with thoughts of last evening’s grueling suspension. She challenges herself.
I lift the leash. I’m not really giving her a choice. She’s going to hang, every one of her hundred pounds will dangle by way of her own flesh.
“Come.”
Arising from the floor, the feet struggle to find comfortable footing. I know the many muscles to be revolting, offering pangs of agony rather than obediently responding to their owner’s synaptic commands. She whimpers, bringing a smile. But she moves to my frame of pipes. There I repeat last night’s binding. Nose leash, elbow grommets, corset cord, buttock grommets. Lastly I slowly lift to hook the ankles. Then I move swiftly to adjust as Sunny initially writhes in agony, tightening the corset cord and using my new hair ring to relieve tension from the nose grommet.
Ironically, I truly want her to be moderately comfortable. She will thus suffer longer and her submissive psyche can linger for hours as endorphins flow and she mentally resists fighting her bonds.
Movement brings pain.
Completing my task, I produce the digital camera and click away. My little minx actually thinks she can avoid the lens. Her squirming efforts are rewarded with painful cramping, the muscles offering a rebellious response to her comical attempts to hide from view.
“Please no photos,” she humbly begs.
I just smile and click, click, click. The spread shot from the rear is priceless.
“Now, let me know when you can’t bear any more. You wanted to experience arroycoo. You shall. But as opposed to the vertical tribal position, where fainting mercifully ends the torment, you shall remain conscious and potentially suffer interminably. Your weight is being born by 23 grommets, including your nose, plus a little weight on your new hair ring. Not too stressful on the skin, but enough to bring deliciously slow pain. And if you lose control and struggle, the pain only grows. So it’s best to complacently lie and accept my offering, my little gift of slow torment.”
I cannot help but stroke her right breast then the left as I speak, my caress neither firm nor light, just a little tease, enough to awaken the ganglia.
And they really are finely shaped glands, the skin corset seeming to offer alluring shape and firmness to the sizable hillocks... as if presented on a platter, to be devoured.
***
I eat a leisurely dinner, cold seafood salad, some white wine. Sunny meekly hangs, an occasional spasm bringing a moan and renewed efforts to remain perfectly calm and accept the slow build up of anguish rather than the sharper pain of sudden muscle cramps.
I tantalize in offering a modest size shrimp, the sauce quite succulent. Just enough to awaken the pallet, that which will be disappointed in finding dinner to be bland oatmeal.
A groggy Sunny pleads.
“Enough. Please let me down.”
“No, no, Sunny. We don’t let you down, we offer respite in other ways.”
Finishing my dinner, I retrieve my probe, that designed to benumbly slip past her labia and clitoris and palpate the anterior fornix. This offers minimal joy but oscillates the PC muscles.
“Don’t move. Let Dr. Samuels take care of you.”
A most frustrating manner in which to be masturbated, if that is the proper description.
Sunny will hardly feel a thing and the resulting hormonal flow will lengthen her ability to withstand arroycoo
.
How devilishly deviant of me...
***
I sit back enjoying a glass of wine. Sunny is completely motionless, the cramping forestalled. She is zoned out, conscious but without the energy to even speak. One can detect the slightest motion of breathing, otherwise an observing medical neophyte would be scrambling to take her pulse.
Slowly slithering inward, past the labia, I penetrated her vagina keeping the bulbous tip of my probe gently pressed downward, in Sunny’s position toward the tummy, against the anterior wall of her love canal. The limited size of my device met no resistance, of course, until reaching the cervix, some four to five inches past her opening. There I pressed downward a little more firmly, toward the floor, and pushed inward a little more firmly. Resistance yes, but when I felt a slight contraction of the pubo coccygeus muscles, I knew my probe reached its goal, that magical area the function of which is still not fully understood, the anterior fornix. That passageway is narrow and therefore tight. But my implement is well designed, smoothly polished, sized perfectly. Once fully inserted, I began the slightest fucking motion... in, out, in, out... only about half an inch, careful to offer no stimulation to the labia, and certainly none to the clitoris.
With the very slim shaft of the probe, Sunny felt nothing to arouse the remainder of her complicated genitalia. Yet, sensing penetration of the fornix, her body eventually reacted just as modern research has suggested. Within moments, the PC muscles oscillated more fully and finally spastically clenched in an action that resembled an orgasm, exaggerated in that no other muscles moved. Yet, with stimulation to the labia and clitoris denied, Sunny was offered extremely limited pleasure, if any. Still, there came hormonal release and I smile as she lies hanging by her own flesh, the afterglow calming her.
The result of my penetration and manipulation?.. she can withstand longer hanging. With a flood of endorphins coaxed by my controlling hand, the cramping has stopped... for now.
“You’re quite the lovely puppet, Sunny. I pull a string and your muscles obediently react. You wet the floor.”
Yes, in forcing from her a faux orgasm, she ejaculated... a curious eruption of feminine essence spewing to the flooring. There remains a small puddle but the well worn hardwood has withstood worse soiling.
Dr. Winthrop Samuels Series Page 7